


Love in an Elevator

by Aurum_Auri



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Elevator Sex, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, M/M, PWP, Smut, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 01:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16378544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum_Auri/pseuds/Aurum_Auri
Summary: While Yuuri is heading to the Sochi Grand Prix banquet, he finds himself sharing an awkward elevator ride with Victor Nikiforov himself. But when the elevator stalls, things between them change, perhaps for the better...





	Love in an Elevator

**Author's Note:**

> So after the YOI binge I was thinking about meta and then I was thinking about smut and then the song "Love in an Elevator" by Aerosmith came on and well. Oops, my hand slipped. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Yuuri tapped his foot slowly, taking a breath to steady himself. His body sagged. 

If he didn’t come downstairs soon, Celestino would come up after him, and Yuuri wouldn’t even have the dignity of coming to the Sochi Grand Prix banquet of his own accord. Beside the elevator doors, there was a lit button, the one calling the elevator to bring Yuuri downstairs to the banquet hall.

Yuuri’s chest was tight. It would bring him to his own personal hell on earth. 

It was going to take a lot of champagne to get through tonight. 

The elevator let out a soft chime. The doors slid open, and Yuuri went stock still.

“V-Victor-” Yuuri gasped. Victor was standing inside the slim, mirrored box, looking willowy and graceful in an immaculately cut suit. Yuuri felt starkly underdressed in comparison. He tugged on the lapels of his suit, taking an automatic step back.

Surely Victor wouldn’t recognize him, right…?

“I’ll just- take the next one,” he said, starting to turn away.

“Nonsense!” Victor called. “There’s plenty of room. Let’s go down to the banquet together, Yuuri!”

Yuuri shuddered into motion like a puppet pulled by strings, his limbs jerking along guided by something outside himself. “Right,” he said. He stepped across the elevator’s threshold. He looked away as the elevator began to move. 

His chest squeezed tight. 

Victor. He didn’t expect to be forced to confront his idol again so soon. He’d rather hoped he could spend the evening at the fringes of the party and out of sight. 

“Another Grand Prix,” Victor said. “Some season so far, right?” 

“Some season,” Yuuri agreed quietly. He curled his hand into a fist, chancing a short glance in Victor’s direction. His breath caught. 

Victor was smiling widely, that same breezy, beautiful, camera-ready smile that made Yuuri’s heart pound in his chest. Victor was making small-talk  _ with Yuuri _ . Yuuri was going to be sick. 

All of Yuuri’s dreams culminated in this one crushing failure, and here Victor was, staring Yuuri in the face, reminding him of all the chances he lost out on in one crushing defeat. One failure. One mistake. 

The lights flickered. Both looked up at the ceiling in surprise. “That’s strange,” Victor said. 

The numbers above the doors were still ticking down, counting out the floors: twenty six, twenty five, twenty four. The lights flickered again and the elevator suddenly shuddered. 

Yuuri threw an arm against the mirrored wall, crying out as everything jarred and rocked. A horrible noise filled the air, and suddenly they weren’t moving anymore. Only years of absorbing falls on the ice kept Yuuri from falling hard onto his knees as the elevator ground to a halt. 

“What was that?” Victor said. He was clutching at the wall himself, down on one knee. Yuuri mashed the ‘open door’ button. Gears ground against one another, but the elevator didn’t move. Victor stumbled over, holding his head. 

He jammed his thumb into the call button. Silence greeted them. “It’s not working,” Yuuri whispered. 

The elevator was stuck. Yuuri could feel his heart race faster. There had to be something they could do. Anything. Yuuri wrenched at the doors, but they didn’t budge. 

Victor was pacing the side, taking two short steps before turning back. Yuuri was pulling at his hair. There had to be something. They couldn’t just be trapped in here. 

He flipped open his phone. Signal was spotty, but he could probably make a call out just fine. He started to dial Celestino when the speaker crackled to life, jabbering in Russian. 

Victor rounded on it, replying in kind. They talked for a moment, but Yuuri couldn’t make out most of what was said. 

He watched relief slip over Victor’s fine features. Oh good. That was a good sign. Victor said something cheerily into speaker and the line disconnected. 

“They know there’s an issue,” Victor said. “They said we’ll be free soon, but it might be an hour or two. They have to get a special technician out to do maintenance.”

“That’s good to hear,” Yuuri breathed, full of false cheer. Victor smiled and nodded. “We’ll be free soon.”

Truthfully, Yuuri couldn’t imagine which was worse: being put through a whole night at the banquet, or spending the rest of his life trapped with his idol in an elevator. Yuuri could smell Victor’s expensive cologne from here. 

It was a tough call. At least at the banquet, there would be liquor to soothe Yuuri’s frazzled nerves. He had made a damned fool of himself in front of Victor. Now he had to suffer the awkward fallout. 

Yuuri shuffled his feet. 

“Sorry about the photo yesterday!” Victor said suddenly. “Back at the rink? You were trying to catch your taxi, right?”

“Oh! Um. Sure,” Yuuri coughed. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. It isn’t your fault.”

“What do you think of Russia?” Victor asked. For a moment, Yuuri hated how perfect that smile was, how much it made his heart ache. Surely Victor didn’t actually think Yuuri was just running late. He had to have known that Yuuri turned his back on him, left him there. Yuuri hated how much it hurt. 

“Russia is nice,” Yuuri said. 

The silence weighed on him. Yuuri glances at his phone. He fired off a quick text to Celestino, but his coach had already discovered the stalled elevator, and was dealing with sponsors for Yuuri until the mess could be sorted out. 

Yuuri let out a breath of relief. At least that was one less thing for him to have to deal with. 

Victor was fidgeting. He kept glancing around uneasily, pacing the length of the little box they were trapped in. Yuuri sank to the floor and pulled up his legs to make room. 

Time seemed to pass so slowly. Every minute felt excruciating, and still the silence weighed on them both, painfully heavy. Trapped in an elevator with his idol. Yuuri never realized it would be so… boring. 

He snuck a look at Victor. Victor was watching him, and snapped his eyes away when Yuuri glanced up. Victor rattled the doors, but they didn’t move. 

“This is ridiculous,” Victor muttered. 

“How long does it take to get a crew in?” Yuuri asked. He stood, trying to help Victor pull the doors open. If they could get the elevator’s doors open, maybe they could get the doors to the outside open, too. 

They pulled hard, and the doors made a horrible grinding noise. Inch by inch, the doors slid open a little bit, until they stopped. No amount of pulling could make them budge further. Maybe Yuuri could fit through the gap. Yuuri glanced at Victor’s shoulders and frowned. Victor definitely couldn’t. 

Victor flopped onto the floor with a sigh. He was beaming again. “We’ll be out soon! We’ll just be patient!”

“You look annoyed,” Yuuri said. It was odd. Victor was smiling, but there was a little notch in his eyebrows. It was so small Yuuri wasn’t sure how he noticed, expect maybe because of the years Yuuri had spent staring at posters. 

“I'm not annoyed,” Victor said. “Just wondering what’s taking so long. They said this model requires a special technician to operate. Why haven’t they gotten them in yet?”

Victor pressed the call button again. 

He spoke with the attendant in rapid-fire Russian. It sounded… almost sharper than usual. Still polite, but curiously clipped. The little annoyed notch was back. 

Victor let out a sigh and pushed his hair back from his face. “Spasibo.” He glanced at Yuuri. “They need one specific attendant to access the error codes but he isn’t answering the phone. They said it might take a few more hours before they find someone qualified to operate the machinery.”

“A few more hours,” Yuuri murmured. He crossed his legs. 

Victor tapped on his phone. Eventually he slid down to the floor, sitting cross legged in his very expensive suit. “Do you like dogs?” Victor asked suddenly.  

“I love them. Why?”

Victor lit up. “The woman watching my apartment for me sent new pictures of my precious Makkachin. Isn’t she just the cutest?” Victor cooed, turning his phone around. 

A beautiful brown poodle greeted Yuuri, beaming at the camera with her tongue lolling out. She looked just like a bigger, slightly lighter  version of-

Yuuri’s breath hitched. No. Not here. He wasn’t crying here. He frantically wiped his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the tears from leaking out. He turned away, shaking his head hard. “S-sorry,” Yuuri huffed. “Ignore me.”

“Are you crying?” Victor asked. 

“No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Yuuri said. He turned away. He wasn’t sad. He was  _ mad _ , a failure to everything he’d ever desired in life and a traitor to his own dreams. He binge ate his stresses before skating, and that was before Vicchan ever died. 

Yuuri had no right to blame losing on the death of Vicchan. It was his own mental weakness that led to crushing defeat and scoring a hundred points under Victor. 

He could have done better. If he was stronger, he would have done better. Victor didn’t let things affect him like that, and Yuuri didn’t have the right to ever stand on his level when he still fell apart like this over a picture of a poodle. 

“I don’t understand,” Victor said. Yuuri huddled in the corner and said nothing. He didn’t want Victor’s pity. Not after Yuuri’s crushing defeat. 

Time passed painfully slow in the silence. Yuuri’s stomach rumbled. 

Victor rubbed his stomach, frowning. He looked at his phone, checking the time. He scowled. 

“Do you think the banquet is still going?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor shook his head. “I’m not sure. I’ve never missed it before.”

“Can I see that picture of Makkachin again?” Yuuri asked. Victor smiled and handed his phone over, sliding a little closer to Yuuri. “She’s really pretty,” Yuuri murmured. 

“She’s my pride and joy,” Victor said. He flipped through a few more pictures. It hurt, but also felt a little soothing on Yuuri’s frazzled nerves. He cooed over cute autumn photos of Makkachin rolling in leaves, summer snapshots of them running through the surf. “Have you ever had dogs?”

“One,” Yuuri said. “... He was a good boy.”

“Oh… I see,” Victor said. Yuuri saw the battery on Victor’s phone. Twelve percent. Yuuri pulled out his own, showing Victor the last picture Mari had sent to Yuuri. 

Vicchan was curled up in bedsheets, snoozing away. 

“He’s precious,” Victor said, clutching his chest. “He looks like Makka did as a puppy. Oh- your battery-“

Victor barely spoke before Yuuri’s phone turned itself off. Yuuri set it aside and crossed his arms around his legs. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

“When did he die?” Victor asked. Yuuri looked away. He didn’t answer. “Recently?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said at last. “Two days ago, actually.”

“Two  _ days? _ ” Victor said. When Yuuri looked at him again, the pleasant little smile was gone. “You mean you skated after finding out?”

“I don’t want your pity,” Yuuri scoffed. “I know, I shouldn’t have let it get to me so badly, I should have been stronger, I shouldn’t-“ his breath caught, and he started furiously wiping the tears away. “I should have been better. I shouldn’t have been so weak.”

“That doesn’t sound like weakness,” Victor said. “If something happened to Makkachin, I wouldn’t be on the ice at all. Grand Prix or not, I would be an absolute mess, Yuuri. It’s just a piece of metal, Yuuri. Gold isn’t as important as your friend.”

“Easy for you to say,” Yuuri said. “I don’t even want gold, I just… I wanted to skate the way I always wanted to. I wanted to skate something I could be proud of. I wanted-” to skate the same ice as Victor. “You have endless medals. I’ll probably never make it back to the Grand Prix again. It’s different.”

“I don’t think it’s different at all,” Victor said. “You say you don’t care about winning. But how do you feel losing?”

Yuuri glared. “That’s a low blow.”

“Exactly, no one  _ wants  _ to lose. No one sets out for last place. But at the same time… no one expects to sacrifice so much to get where they end up. No one knows what the cost will be until it’s too late.”

Yuuri let out a breath. “I gave up five years with Vicchan. I should have visited. I should have come home just once. I always thought he would be there when I came back. So I poured everything I had into skating. Every moment of free time, every second of every day skating, conditioning. All my tears, all my blood, all my sweat. And Vicchan… is gone. And I’ve still never had a routine that I could be proud of.”

“I loved the one you did last year,” Victor said. “The step sequence was phenomenal. The jumps weren’t placed right, though. The flow was all wrong. It was like the jumps weren’t integrated properly.”

“You saw my performance last year?” Yuuri asked in horror. “It was almost as bad as Lohengrin back in my junior days.”

“I did see it! Especially that step in the middle that looked a bit like the one from my Lilac Fairy skate,” Victor mused. 

Yuuri went bright red. He’d adapted a version of a fragment of the step sequence and Victor  _ noticed _ . “I um, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you would ever see it-“

“I’m flattered, actually. It was good, until the sudden triple axel threw it off. A different jump would have gone better there, one with less lead off, like the triple salchow.”

“I’m more confident in the axel,” Yuuri said. “Not that it helps me now.”

“You’re right,” Victor said. “We should talk about the routines you’re using this season. Your short program isn’t terrible, but the free skate is a mess, and I think it really showed in the second half when-”

Yuuri listened, half in awe, as Victor broke down the program components, dissecting them into each flawed piece. 

“-but really the biggest problem is the quad at the start, that throws you off, and when you mess that up your score is always significantly lower. It’s like the nerves get to you.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri admitted. “I guess you could say that. But I can’t exactly fix that. Celestino and I need to figure out something different, I guess, something that works better.”

“What time does your flight leave tomorrow? Maybe we can sneak some ice time before you have to leave.”

“You would help me?” Yuuri asked suspiciously. “Why? I’m a competitor.”

Victor’s smile turned icy. “You say that like you’re planning on beating me next season, Yuuri. But with the way your program components are arranged right now, you don’t stand a chance.”

Yuuri glanced toward his reflection in the mirrored walls, but his gaze slid slowly over until it lingered on Victor himself. “You’re right. But I can’t just give up.” He clenched his hand into a fist. “This… this has been my dream for too long. But that still doesn’t explain-” 

“I thought it seemed surprising,” Victor said with a strug. But there was a slight tremble in his hands. 

Yuuri broke off. 

Victor wanted a challenge, of course. He wanted people to win before he retired. He wanted someone, Chris, Cao Bin, anyone, to reach his level. Maybe it was lonely at the top. 

Maybe Victor was only human. 

“Have you ever taught anyone before?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor laughed. “Nope. But how hard could it really be? I trained Makkachin, didn’t I?”

Yuuri laughed. “I think there may be a slight difference between training a skater and training Makkachin. At least, training Vicchan was nothing like coaching.”

They chatted softly, but after a while, they lapsed into silence once more. Unlike the first time, however, the silence was more comfortable now. It didn’t carry the same weight of unspoken dread. It was more the natural lull of conversation, the soft settling of silence as they waited for the other to carry on. 

Chatting with Victor was so much different from Yuuri had ever expected. It was so easy to forget that underneath the veneer of polished perfection, somewhere deep inside, there was a person who was only human, who wanted victory and a challenge and the love of a poodle the way Yuuri did. 

Victor hummed softly to himself, smiling wider than before.

“Say, Yuuri. Are you dating anyone right now? We could talk about our past lovers-”

“Oh no no- let’s not-”

“Wait, so are you dating someone right now? I see lots of pictures of you with Phichit Chulanont.”

“We’re good friends and rinkmates, but we aren’t dating,” Yuuri said, flushing a deep red. Victor leaned forward, as though expecting Yuuri to continue. “N-no comment.”

Victor laughed. 

Yuuri stared at the tiles on the floor. He felt almost giddy for some reason. “It’s kind of funny,” he murmured. “I thought… you know. The first time we talked, it would be after I did something… worthwhile.” 

“After you beat me?” Victor asked. Yuuri didn’t say a word, but it was written all over his face all the same, a sudden burst of determination. Victor’s smile wided, almost smug. “I like your fire, Yuuri. I want to see it. I want to see you melt the ice with that fire.” 

“I can’t melt the ice,” Yuuri scoffed. “Maybe you could, but not me.” 

“I told you, I’ve seen you skating, Yuuri. You move like you’re making music within yourself. I think you could, with the right program. You just need to create a routine that maximizes your strengths.”

Yuuri scoffed. “Easier said than done.” He turned his phone over and over in his hands. It was a useless dead thing. “Do you still have battery? What time is it?” he asked.

Victor glanced at his screen. His face dropped. “Oh, it died,” he murmured. “I imagine the banquet is almost over. It has to be midnight. Shame it’s dead, though. I guess we can’t take that photo now.” 

Yuuri hummed, smiling a little. “But Victor, how will we ever remember our time in the elevator together?” he said, only half teasing. The truth was, Yuuri knew he’d never forget this moment. He felt lighter than he had in years and he couldn’t explain why.

It wasn’t that he was locked in an elevator shaft with his idol. He felt more hopeful than he had in a while. 

“We could exchange autographs,” Victor laughed. 

“Do you have a pen?”

Victor’s laughter trailed off, and he pushed his hair back from his face. “Well, no. There has to be something!” he said, looking wide-eyed and eager. He looked puppy-like. It was surprisingly cute. 

Yuuri laughed. “Victoooor, there has to be some way for me to remember this,” he teased. “Can’t you think of something that-”

Victor leaned over, pressing a swift kiss to Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri went bright red. Victor laughed. “Would you remember that, Yuuri Katsuki?” 

Yuuri coughed and turned a brighter shade of red, but Victor’s eyes were sparkling bright. Yuuri glanced away, then back at Victor. “I don’t know. Maybe… another to make sure?” 

Victor slid a little closer so their shoulders touched. He took Yuuri’s chin between his fingers, tipping their heads. He slowly pressed his lips to Yuuri’s. 

Yuuri let out a soft sound of surprise, his fingers seizing Victor’s suit jacket. The kiss ratched up in intensity. Yuuri was floating, but Victor was like a tether, something concrete and hot against his skin. 

He let out a breathless gasp. His hands slid up Victor’s chest, clutching at the exquisite suit. Victor’s hands trailed over his hips like an invitation and Yuuri groaned, rising onto his knees to get closer. 

His eyes opened, and he saw his reflection in the mirrored walls. He was flushed and panting, crushing Victor against the elevator wall, while Victor squeezed Yuuri’s waist under his hands like he didn’t want Yuuri to let him up for even a moment. 

He was making out with Victor Nikiforov in an elevator, and worse, he looked like a mess. A trail of saliva connected their lips as Yuuri pulled back. They slowly caught their breath, eyes locked. Victor’s lips looked softer than before, a little swollen with overeager kisses. 

Yuuri was panting. “Victor… maybe we- ah- should slow down- surely someone will come along any minute now-"

Victor pressed another kiss to Yuuri’s throat. His eyes closed, and he buried his face in Yuuri’s shoulder with a groan. “You’re right. Someone could be by at any time. I- Sorry, I got carried away.” 

Reluctantly, Yuuri sat back, taking a seat immediately beside Victor. Their thighs were touching, their shoulders brushing against each other. Victor’s hand settled over Yuuri’s. Victor offered a little smile. Their fingers laced, and Yuuri smiled back, reluctant. 

“This elevator is cold,” Victor said, glancing up. “Is there not air circulation in here?” 

Yuuri glanced around. “Well… I’m sure the elevator shaft gets a lot of breezes running down it, but I don’t see any way for central heating to get in. Maybe it only gets whatever air comes in when the doors open.” 

And the doors were open now, a few inches of elevator shaft exposed. Probably where the draft was coming from. It had to be at least a few degrees cooler in here then it had been when they’d gotten on. 

It wasn’t dangerous, not cold enough to be of any real concern, but it was noticeable, enough to cause minor discomfort. Yuuri shuffled a little closer, huddling against Victor’s warm body, and Victor arranged himself to be flush against Yuuri’s side. Victor rested his head on Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri rested his head against Victor’s. 

Victor’s thumb rubbed tiny circles into Yuuri’s hand, and it was peaceful.

“Where did you get the idea for your free skate this year?” Yuuri asked. “I’ve always wondered… it felt so personal but…”

“You’re wondering if someone inspired it?” Victor said. Yuuri made a soft sound of agreement. “Honestly? Not at all. No one specific, anway. I had the idea, and had the music composed to match the story I wanted to tell. There wasn’t anything more to it.”

“That’s it?” Yuuri said. “It’s just a story?”

“It feels empty. It could tug at the heartstrings, maybe, but something is missing. Don’t you agree?”

“I guess,” Yuuri said. “I don’t know. Honestly…” He hesitated, then let out a nervous laugh. “You’ve been my inspiration for a long time. So I don’t know what that feeling is like.”

“I figured,” Victor said. Yuuri blinked in surprise. “It’s obvious in the way you skate. I mean, it’s not obvious, probably not to most people, but I can see how I influenced your skating. I’m not completely oblivious,” Victor laughed. “I know you’re a fan.”

Yuuri went stock still.

“Oh, that came out badly-” Victor stammered. “I didn’t mean to sound arrogant about it-”

“No,” Yuuri said. “You’re right.” He moved a little closer, shivering a little against the chill. “I always thought you were something untouchable on a pedestal. I guess… it’s just really easy to forget that you’re still Victor, even if the world sees Victor Nikiforov.”

“Just Victor, huh,” Victor breathed. He wasn’t looking at Yuuri. His eyes were distant, staring off into space. “No one wants that, not when they can have Victor Nikiforov.”

“Well, if Just Victor is the one beside me right now… I think I like him better.”

Victor’s expression twitched, his eyes snapping to Yuuri’s face. His eyes closed, and he brought their joined hands to his lips. A soft kiss pressed to Yuuri’s knuckles, and Victor smoothed the hand over his cheeks. 

Minutes passed in comfortable silence. 

“It feels like it’s close to midnight. The banquet has to be long over by now,” Victor murmured after a while. “Everyone else has probably gone back to their hotel rooms by now.”

Yuuri shrugged. “It’s okay. I didn’t really want to go anyway.”

“Honestly, me either,” Victor said. “I think I had more fun here tonight than I would have had there. Should we try and sleep? Maybe they’ll wake us up when help arrives.”

Yuuri shook his head. He was buzzing under his skin. “I’m not actually tired.”

Victor sighed. “I miss my soft, fancy hotel bed,” he mourned. “It’s so big and soft and warm. After the day we’ve both had, wouldn’t it be nice to just fall into it and sleep for hours?” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri murmured. He jolted. “Wait, I mean- my own bed- n-not yours-” He started sputtering. Victor laughed, holding Yuuri’s hand a little tighter. 

“Yuuuri, were you wanting to come over to my bed with me?” Victor teased. 

“No no no!” Yuuri screeched.

“It’ll be so much warmer with you there, even more comfortable,” Victor added. 

Yuuri made a dying noise, unable to fully breathe. Yes, they had kissed a little, but this had just confirmed three things to him and he wasn’t entirely certain how ready he was to deal with them. Now he knew for certain that Victor was interested in:

  1. Talking to him
  2. Staying the night with him
  3. Possibly even fucking him



He was having trouble remembering why he shouldn’t just go wild and spend the night with Victor. He wanted to. Victor wanted him. Yuuri wasn’t fool enough to deny that there was a carnal attraction between them, something physical that pulled Yuuri toward Victor.

He’d lusted after Victor for longer than he’d known was lust was. It felt odd to acknowledge that Victor reciprocated that same physical attraction. But Yuuri couldn’t ignore it entirely, either. The way Victor’s gaze lingered on Yuuri’s lips, the way Victor smiled when Yuuri talked, and the way Yuuri couldn’t quite stop smiling either. 

Talking quietly in the elevator, filling the silence with words, it didn’t do a thing to dampen the feeling of attraction Yuuri felt. They were adults. There was nothing wrong with a night of desire between consenting individuals before they went their separate ways once more.

Yuuri didn’t even know if he’d ever skate again, to be perfectly honest. Victor talked about the future like it was a certainty, and it was easy to carry on with that conversation when Victor drew him into it. But nothing was set in stone, not really. 

He closed his eyes, hyper-aware of Victor leaning against him. It sent shivers down his skin. Nothing had ever made him  _ want _ like this before. Maybe he’d never allowed himself to want, or maybe there had never been anyone else to want. But this was a moment that could end at any time, a precious, fleeting handful of minutes with Victor captive in this elevator with Yuuri.

It was enough to forget, for a time. 

“If you wanted to,” he murmured.  He looked up at Victor, his eyes wide and innocent. Fuck me eyes, Phichit called them. He rose onto his knees, closer onto Victor’s lap. “Have sex, I mean, I don’t see why not. I want to.” 

Victor hesitated for a moment, surprised. But then hands clasped around Yuuri’s face, cradling his cheeks. Their lips met again. Yuuri melted against Victor, collapsing into a dizzied pile on Victor’s thighs. Maybe there were worse Grand Prix Finals, if this is how this one ended. 

“They’re taking forever,” Yuuri said, breathless against Victor’s mouth. “We probably… have time…” 

He felt a shiver of delight as Victor’s hands untucked his shirt, sliding up his chest and leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. Yuuri moaned into the kiss. He ground his hips, rubbing his stiffening cock against Victor’s. Their slowly tenting bulges rubbed with teasing friction, a tantalizing taste of something more to come. 

Yuuri was grasping for more, filling his hands with the jacket of Victor’s suit, crushing it in his hands and wrinkling it before smoothing it out with splayed fingers. He savored the touch, sliding his hands worshipfully over the expanse of Victor’s chest. He’d never have another chance like this. 

Victor’s hands slipped down, sending a cool draft over the small of Yuuri’s back. The hands kept going, slipping under the belt and trousers, between the boxer briefs and pants, grabbing at handfuls of Yuuri’s ass. Yuuri fumbled with the belt, trying to free it. It caught on a loop. He sucked impatient, messy, open-mouthed kisses as he wrenched it free. Victor helped him out of his trousers, tugging them down his waist with Yuuri’s help. 

Yuuri’s hands went back to belt loops, trying to free Victor’s. He growled and gasped into the kiss as Victor nipped his lower lip, turning them over. 

Yuuri’s spine hit the cool, mirrored wall. His head fell back as Victor kissed his throat, his hands pulling away from Yuuri long enough to undo the fastening on the belt. Yuuri helped him shimmy his hips free. 

Victor’s usually coiffed hair was messy, perfectly imperfect in how it was mussed around his face. Yuuri let out a delighted little laugh. He was about to have sex with Victor Nikiforov in an elevator and god he couldn’t imagine what he’d be doing tonight if the elevator hadn’t stalled. Maybe he’d be back in his room, drunk and sad and crying. 

They shed their clothes like winter coats, sending jackets and pants and shoes this way and that. Victor scooped Yuuri up, laying him out on a nest of their clothes. 

Victor laughed, almost giddy-sounding. “You know, Chris handed me these on the way to my room?” He held up a packet of lube and a condom in a foil packet.

“Wow, always prepared, isn’t he?” Yuuri laughed. “Like a boyscout.” Victor tossed the condom beside them and fumbled with the lube packet, trying to open the corner. Yuuri spread his legs with a little smile. “Will you fuck me?”

Victor sucked in a breath. He fumbled a little more furiously with the lube packet. “Oh fuck,” Victor breathed, finally opening it and spilling lube all over his hands. He slicked his fingers up. “Can I-?”

Yuuri hummed. His head fell back and his legs spread a little wider, fingers hooking loosely around his lower legs to hold them in place.. Victor’s fingers pressed against his rim. 

He’d fingered himself plenty of times, played with dildos and cocksleeves enough to have cultivated a distinct fantasy of Victor between his thighs, railing him until dawn. Then came the first press of fingers inside of him, catching his breath and leaving him clutching at his calves, and Yuuri was reeling. 

Victor’s fingers had nothing on his own. The deliberate press was incomparable, the slow slide over flesh, and how he teased at the rim, all while showering Yuuri’s thighs in succulent kisses. Yuuri melted into the floor, pretty whimpers spilling from his lips. His hand shot out. He brushed foil and grasped for it, finding his fingers coated in the lube on the outside of the packet. 

He reached blindly for Victor’s cock. He found it faster than expected. 

The length was thick and heavy between Victor’s thighs, a prominent and prodigious size pointing upward with a certain amount of pride. Yuuri bit his lip as he stroked his slick hand over the length. It was long, a little thicker in the mildly, straight and flaring at the head. Precum beaded at the tip like morning dew. 

Another finger joined the first inside Yuuri. They scissored and twisted, going deeper than one alone could. Yuuri felt exposed like this. It was too raw, Victor’s eyes raking over his body. 

Another finger joined the first. “So tight,” Victor murmured, and Yuuri muttered a little complaint, spreading his legs wider and forcing himself to relax. “Good, good,” Victor crooned. His voice was rich like velvet. “Are you almost ready?”

“I want to feel you,” Yuuri breathed. “Victor…”

Victor reached for the condom, but made a surprised noise. His eyes skated over the floor. “Where did it go?”

Yuuri tipped his head up. Fingers pulled out of him, leaving him a little breathless with the sudden feeling of emptiness. He spotted the foil packet-- right at the edge of the floor, teetering precariously between the open doors. 

“It’s… going to fall,” Yuuri said. 

“I’ll get it-” Victor said, rising up to his knees. The foil packet slipped and plummeted through the gap between the elevator doors and the wall, vanishing into the void of the elevator shaft. Victor went pale. “... Fuck.”

“Oh,” Yuuri muttered. He glanced at where the condom had fallen, then back at Victor. “... Are you clean?” he asked. 

Victor looked confused by the question. “Yes? I get tested twice a year at my rink’s health screening. Why-” Suddenly Victor broke off.

“I’m clean too,” Yuuri said, flushing dark red. “If… you wanted to…” He spread his legs apart once more, inviting Victor back between them. Lube slicked up the span between his thighs, enticingly wet, open. He lowered his eyelashes, suddeny unsure. 

Victor wouldn’t be crazy enough to-

Victor bent over him, sucking soft kisses into Yuuri’s chest and throat. “I want to,” he moaned. He clutched at Yuuri’s hips. Bareback it was, and Yuuri was so hungry for it he could almost taste it. Yuuri was bent double, posed into a delicious little twist as his legs were pushed back. 

Victor was bowed above him. His expression was softer than Yuuri expected. Their lips met, and Yuuri felt the first press of Victor’s cock inside him.

It was different than his toys, something so vibrantly warm and alive, so distinctly coupled with the feeling of arms around him, lips against his, knowing the whole while that this was  _ Victor _ , Victor of all people in the world. 

It filled him and overwhelmed him, heat and bliss and the stretch inside as his body opened up for Victor. He cried out softly, whimpering his pleasure into Victor’s mouth. Victor groaned in turn. His fingers clutched at Yuuri’s skin, and he held the base of his cock with one hand, stalling as though struggling to keep from cumming right there.

Yuuri let out a bubble of laughter. 

“God, you feel so good,” Victor breathed. “I can’t-” 

“Fuck me, Victor,” Yuuri breathed, giddy with the way their bodies were joined. They were connected, they were one. Victor was half inside him and pushing deeper in with every twitch of his hips. Victor let out a shuddering little sound as he bottomed out inside. 

“So tight,” Victor gasped. His breath was harsh against Yuuri’s mouth. 

Yuuri was a mess, laying back, struggling to breathe. His fingers trembled as he clutched at the suit jacket beneath him. It was more than he could bear. Every inch of him was overwhelmed by the touch of Victor around him, the pulse of Victor’s cock throbbing inside him. 

It was bigger than his toys. But more than that, it was more intense than any toy, too. The swell of it filled him deep, reaching places within Yuuri that had never felt sensation like this before. He was coming undone. He slid his fingers through Victor’s hair. 

He could barely manage the shaky smile he offered up between kisses. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. 

“Does it hurt?” Victor panted. 

“A little,” Yuuri said. “But god, Ah, Victor, feels so- good-” Victor moved inside him, and Yuuri’s hands flew up, reaching for Victor’s body. They moved as one, slow at first, then faster, faster, a wet slap of skin between them as they started to move. Sexual pleasure had never been so exquisite, never burned so intensely under Yuuri’s skin the way it did here. 

“I’m close,” he whimpered. 

“Close… too,” Victor said, breathing hard. His head bowed. He held Yuuri tight. “I’m going to- I-”

“Inside,” Yuuri crooned. “In me, please, Victor-” 

There was a breathless moment of light, and his whole body shuddered as his orgasm claimed him. Pleasure ripped through his mind, his soul, thick spurts of white coating his stomach. Victor’s cock inside of him seemed to pulse with a mind of its own.

So quickly after, Victor was coming too, and they seperated slowly. 

Yuuri giggled a little. He was a bit sore, a little stiff from bending, but he felt so good, too. He’d had sex with Victor, and it had been better than he’d ever dreamed of. They were still kissing as they pulled apart, leaving sweet little pecks and nips into the skin. 

They slowly caught their breath with smiles on their face. 

“That was nice,” Yuuri murmured. Victor’s long limbs laid alongside him. “I never knew sex could feel so good.”

Victor sat up on one arm, his expression dark. “Who didn’t give you a good time?” 

“Oh, no one,” Yuuri said. He laid back, combing his fingers through Victor’s hair. “I’ve never done that before. But it felt good. Better than doing it alone.”

Victor made a strangled noise of horror. “Yuuri? You let me take your virginity in a stalled elevator? Why didn’t you tell me-”

Yuuri cocked his head. “But it was good.” 

Victor made the noise again, clutching his head. “I’m a horrible person. I want to throw myself down an elevator shaft. I can’t believe I did this!” he shrieked. “We’re doing it over! The moment we get back to my room, I’m making this right, we have to-” 

“No no! It’s okay Victor!” 

Victor groaned, clutching his head. “We have to do it again, we have to make it right.”

Yuuri flushed bright red. He started to laugh. “Victor, you’re too serious about this. It’s fine,” he said, crawling into Victor’s lap. “It felt good, and I don’t get the point of making a big deal of it anyway. How about you kiss me again, to make it up?”

Victor groaned, but his lips met Yuuri’s again, his hands settling over Yuuri’s skin. They kissed more, lazily stroking each other and dozing against the wall.

Who knew when they’d be free? It was impossible to tell what time it was, or how long they’d been trapped. 

The lights flickered. There was a soft whine, and the elevator suddenly began to shudder. 

“Wait,” Yuuri said, lifting his head. They were moving. 

“We’re moving!” Victor said, grinning. “We’re free!”

“We’re naked,” Yuuri yelped, scrambling to stand up. He frantically shoved his legs into his pants, grabbing for the nearest shirt. Everything was wrinkled, and their ties were undone. Yuuri tried to smooth his hair down, pat Victor’s into place, but they looked utterly debauched as the elevator rose to the 38th floor. 

The doors slid open. Celestino looked worried but relieved, a smile breaking over his face as Yuuri came into sight. Beside him, Yakov was glowering, just as irate as Yuuri had always seen him. Celestino’s smile wavered as he noticed Yuuri was leaning against Victor, clearly debauched. 

“Yuuri, are you alright?” he asked. 

“Fine, coach!” Yuuri said quickly. 

Celestino narrowed his eyes. “Is that so?” He glanced between Yuuri and Victor, with something suspicious in his eyes. 

Yuuri looped his arm into Victor’s “I’m- stayinginVictor'sroomtonightthanksforsavingusfromtheelevatorbye," he said in a rush. Victor scooped Yuuri up, and they made a faster escape as Yakov began to scream behind them. As Yuuri and Victor escaped, Yuuri head Celestion make a sound of confusion, almost like a laugh. 

“Did we just become coach-in-laws?” Celestino muttered. Yuuri peered over Victor’s shoulder, and he saw Celestino rubbing his face, smiling, amused.

“So, Yuuri,” Victor said, “I think it’s time to make up for the elevator.”

“Your soft bed?” Yuuri asked. 

“And maybe breakfast tomorrow, too, if you’d like,” Victor said with a grin.

**Author's Note:**

> And they all lived happily ever after and Victor ended up coaching Yuuri while skating and they both won mountains of gold and silver medals.


End file.
